


Monsters and Men

by iCheat



Series: Steter Week 2018 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Confused Peter Hale, Damaged Stiles Stilinski, Dream Sharing, Evil Deaton, Good Alpha Talia Hale, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Nogitsune, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Steter Week, Time Travel, mild insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 10:01:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCheat/pseuds/iCheat
Summary: They had a plan to go back and fix everything, but Stiles was the only one who made it and he's not as together as he'd like people to believe. Fortunately Peter is there to offer a, rather confused, hand.For day 6 of Steter Week: BAMF!Stiles AND Time Travel





	Monsters and Men

Stiles watched Paige ran around the corner, desperately trying to outrun the monster on her heels. As soon as she was out of sight Stiles stepped out of hiding into the Alpha’s path. The Alpha snarled but didn’t slow.

“Oh yeah, time to meet a real monster,” Stiles said setting his stance and calling his magic forward. The shadows around him twisted and warped. Ennis snarled and lunged, Stiles grinned and met him with an eager recklessness.

* * *

Peter slipped out of the house as Talia, Derek and Paige, had the big, or not so big apparently, reveal talk. Honestly, when he’d told Derek to tell her so she could be turned he didn’t expect the boy to somehow get in contact with a random Alpha. How had he even done it? Never mind thinking it was a good idea.

Sometimes Peter wondered if someone had dropped Derek as a baby.

Either way, his current plan was to get out of the house and find something to distract himself for the night. Plus the added benefit of drawing Talia’s ire so Derek and his little girlfriend could sort out their own mess. Peter had a growing faith in Paige and was hoping some of her common sense would rub off on Derek.

It didn’t take long for Peter to get to the club and order himself a drink. The club was busy as ever, bodies gyrating and grinding together. Peter looked over them absently. There wasn’t anyone he was particularly interested in in Beacon Hills but you got some interesting character in Jungle. They were good for a lay at least.

Gold.

Peter immediately flicked his eyes back to the colour. It took him a moment to pin point it but eventually he managed to get a glimpse again. The golden-brown eyes of a young man. He was lean and lithe but Peter could see the movement of his muscles as he moved with his dance partners. He had an eager, excited grin on his face that made him look young and mischievous.

Peter put his drink down and prowled forward.

He moved through the crowd with the grace and purpose of a predator.

Soon enough he was slipping in behind the golden-eyed man and putting hands on his hips. The man didn’t even glance back at the change of partner, his focus obviously on his own enjoyment. Peter could appreciate that, but he wouldn’t be ignored.

He leaned forward and pulled the other man closer to him, a rumble going through his chest. The man glanced back at him and something flickered over his face, but it was gone before Peter could identify it. Instead he grinned slyly at Peter and started moving with him. They moved together with the music and Peter was definitely glad he’d come over.

Up close he could feel the man’s muscles under his hand and smell the sharp, excited scent of him. The man responded perfectly to him as well, clearly on the same page for how they wanted the night to go. Peter leant into his neck and, much to his delight, the man tilted his head willingly. His scent was earthy, with a touch of petrichor, and a hint of something simultaneously spicy and sweet.

It was delicious.

They continued to dance together for a while, edging inappropriate. When Peter started to lead him off the floor the man followed him with a sly grin. He was eager and just a little cocky. Peter was very excited to find out what noises he could draw from him.

“Shall we find a bed?” He asked, no point being subtle when they both knew what they wanted.

“I do enjoy a classic,” the man said. “Got a place in mind?”

“That I do. Peter, by the way.”

“Good to know, I’m Stiles.”

“Well, Stiles, I’m sure it will be an _absolute pleasure_.”

“I have no doubt.”

* * *

Stiles woke up silent and sudden. He was immediately wide awake, a sensation he’d gotten more than used to. He either woke up screaming or  suddenly awake as though he’d skipped the in-between stage.

He turned his head and looked over the body beside him. Peter was still sound asleep and looked more relaxed than Stiles could ever remember him being. Being closer to the same age was an unexpected bonus. This Peter didn’t have all the trauma, fury, and barely leashed feral edge that Stiles was used to but he was still sly, cocky and just _Peter_. Plus he hadn’t hesitated to take Stiles to bed.

Honestly it had been a great night. Stiles might have been a bit unfair, using his knowledge of Peter to push all the right buttons to make him really go at it. Peter had seemed a bit surprised by how well Stiles kept up but he hadn’t said anything. Werewolf stamina meet magic enhancements. Good thing Peter already had a reputation at this hotel.

Stiles climbed out of bed silently and began picking up his clothes. This had been fun, definitely a good reward and he would probably do what he could to make it happen again, but he had things to do. As much as he’d love to focus on enthralling Peter it wasn’t why he’d come back.

He might make it a second priority though.

It felt good to have a Peter again.

Stiles paused as the idea took hold. He could have a Peter again. Yes it wouldn’t be the Peter he’d… gotten to know, but it would be a Peter. It would be _his_ Peter. It would take time, of course, but Stiles would have plenty of time once he’d dealt with his checklist of other issues.

Vaguely he thought this was why Lydia was supposed to come with him. To moderate that little, desperate, not quite sane part of him. The part that made him both very powerful and very dangerous without any of the people who used to guide his moral compass.

The people that he didn’t have anymore.

Stiles silently moved back to the bed and looked over Peter. Whole and unharmed. Stiles just wanted to keep him that way. He just wanted to _keep_ him.

Slowly Stiles reached out and lightly picked up Peter’s wrist.

He remembered a parking lot. A question asked. An opportunity denied.

Stiles didn’t ask. He gently touched Peter’s wrist to his lips, just grazing it really. He pulled back and looked at the mark left there, the tree with its branches lush and powerful, and its roots entangling with Peter’s veins. It faded soon after, as though it had never been there.

Stiles could still feel it though. The little touch of his magic, thrumming in him, assuring him that Peter was well.

He put Peter’s wrist back down and hurried out the door.

He had a lot to do before he could focus on that.

* * *

Gerard stood in the warehouse and waited. The Alpha had been so easy to fool, so eager for a treaty he agreed to meet Gerard without any of his pack around. Idiotic monster.

As expected Deucalion walked through the door completed unprepared to defend himself. Things were going exactly as planned.

Until they weren’t.

No one responded to Gerard’s signal. Holding back a frown he hit the trigger for the gas and… nothing.

“Something wrong, Gerard?” Deucalion asked, his tone immediately putting Gerard on guard. He looked to see a smirk on the wolf’s lips as he continued. “It’s funny, I actually gave you a chance. Just to check, I told myself, was he _really_ just a racist psychopath. Not sure why, really, you never did care about anyone other than yourself.”

“What did you do?” Gerard demanded, his hand going to one of his hidden weapons. Before he could touch it he felt his muscles freeze up. Everywhere. He was frozen in place under Deucalion’s glowing, golden gaze.

Gold?

“Oh, Deucalion didn’t do anything,” the fake Deucalion said. “He genuinely does want peace. I’ll keep my eye on him, of course, but without you screwing him over it looks like I have one less thing to deal with.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the result of your actions. You brought about a hell on Earth, Gerard Argent, and I had to live through years of it. I had to _watch_ them _die_. One by one. Everyone I loved slowly died off before my eyes and it was _your_ fault.”

“I didn’t-”

“Not yet, but you want to. I know you do. I know you Gerard Argent, time didn’t change you that much.”

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?” Gerard said challengingly. “The Council won’t stand for that.”

The fake laughed.

“Maybe they wouldn’t stand for an Alpha wolf killing you,” he said as his form shifted and warped until Gerard was looking at a copy of himself. “Fortunately, I’m no wolf.”

“What are you?”

“And I’m not going to kill you either. Oh I’d like to, we enjoyed it quite a lot the first time, but your right that I have the Council to consider. They need a kick to get their asses in gear. You are going to be that kick.”

“I’m not doing what you want. I don’t take orders.”

“No, you’re not particularly good at that, are you? Lucky for me, I don’t need you to be willing,” the shapeshifter said, changing again to the form of a young man, tall and lithe. “I detest mind magic, but I’ll make an exception to keep you under control. I know the damage you can do.”

“Y-you can’t do that,” Gerard said. He’d done reading on different magic. No way could someone that young do anything as risky as mind magic safely.

“Of course a can, I have more than enough skill and power, and I’ve done worse things morality wise,” the young man said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll just be basic compulsion work and fuzzy memories. That’s the easy stuff. Besides, the main thing, is this.”

Gerard watched as a small ball of light appeared on the man’s finger tips, pulsating with power. He felt a curl of fear in his gut.

“This, Gerard, is a truth spell. It took a lot of time and effort to learn how to make. Turns out most people don’t see the use of a permanent truth spell but, oh boy, do I.”

“Permanent?” Gerard repeated before he could stop himself.

“Permanent,” the man nodded, moving toward Gerard’s frozen body. “For the rest of your life, however short it may be, you will only be able to speak the truth, and the best part? My death won’t affect this spell and there is no counter.”

Gerard desperately wanted to lean away, to fight back, _anything_ , but the man didn’t offer any leeway. He gripped Gerard’s jaw tightly, forcing his mouth open and pushing the spell in. Gerard felt it force its way down his throat, where it lodged itself, not choking him but feeling like a threat of it. Then the man’s hands moved to either side of his head.

“Gerard Argent,” he intoned in a powerful voice. “You will return to the Council. You will not speak of me or what I told you, you will not remember my face. You will answer for your crimes.”

Gerard felt the commands taking root in him. He knew as soon as he was released from the spell holding him in place he would return to the Council, where he would be forced to speak the truth.

They’d kill him.

“Most likely,” the man said, before removing his hands from Gerard and stepping back. For a moment his gold eyes deemed to darken, but just for a moment. He shook his head and took another step back from Gerard. “We’re done here. You’re free to go.”

Gerard found himself moving against his will, turning away and heading for the door. Now that he wasn’t looking at the man he found he couldn’t remember any of his features.

“Oh, and Gerard,” the man said, making Gerard pause for just a moment. “If your daughter keeps following your footsteps, I might not be so kind to her.”

Gerard scowled at the threat but continued out of the warehouse. Towards the Council.

Behind him Stiles let out a sigh and shook out his hands. He really did hate using mind magic. It was part of Void, of that darkness left within Stiles. Void was gone, or at least, gone from Stiles. He’d get to the Void here soon. He couldn’t leave it too long, but he’d admit he was anxious about it.

For now, he would do a quick check in with Deucalion to ensure he wasn’t too confused about having returned to his pack without actually making the meeting.

* * *

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Deaton turned at the sudden voice to find a shocked looking young man who was staring at him and the Nemeton. He didn’t recognise the other man, though he clearly knew Deaton. His eyes quickly flicked over the supplies Deaton had with him, then up at the tree.

“Oh God,” he breathed out, sounding horrified. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Deaton said in a calm voice, standing to face the stranger. The stranger’s eyes immediately snapped to him.

“You’re killing it,” he said in a horrified tone. “You’re… You, _you_. I _knew_ it! I knew it couldn’t just be Gerard! Do you have any idea what you’re doing? What you did? They died! They all died! Scott died! My dad, Lydia, God Lydia. Did you kill her because of this, because she was going to come back with me? Or was she onto you? You were always pitting us against Peter, leading Scott, do you even care?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deaton started, but was cut off by a crack of thunder.

“You’re poisoning the Nemeton. You’re killing it. You. You, _Darach_.”

Deaton jolted, genuine shock breaking through his usual composure. “How dare yo-”

Thunder cracked again and Deaton looked up to see unnatural clouds circling around them. He looked back at the young man and saw his shadow growing unnaturally behind him and he shook in place. Leaves rustled and Deaton glanced behind him at the tree to see something writhing under its roots.

“You betrayed us. You betrayed everyone. You killed them and you sought power and you’re _killing_ the Nemeton. Do you know what you’ve done? I thought I was saving them from hunters but they need saving from _you_! Everything, everyone you claim to protect, they _all die_. What else could you be but a Darach?”

“What are you doing?” Deaton demanded, staring in horror at the flaring magic around them. The man just laughed.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, sounding ragged and furious and terrified all at once. “You’ve already done it. What do you think the Nemeton is? Why do you think it’s so important? So powerful?”

The wind hissed and howled around them. The dark clouds circled and thunder rolled through the sky. Yet Deaton still heard it. A strange mix between a coo and a hiss.

_“Stiles.”_

“It’s there for protection.”

_“Stiles.”_

“And you weakened it.”

_“Did you miss me, Stiles?”_

“There are monsters in the woods, Deaton.”

Deaton watched in horror as the thing writhing under the tree clawed its way out. For a moment it looked like a swarm of bugs, moving towards the young man, Stiles, but as it approached him it seemed the shifted into a living shadow, an oversized fox that circled the man with an unnatural, sharp grin.

_“But who is the monster and who is the man?”_ The fox asked in its rough, hissing voice. Its tails, all nine of them, curled around Stiles who continued to shake.

“Nogitsune.” Deaton said in horror, getting an even larger grin from the monstrous creature.

_“My gratitude for freedom lays at your feet,”_ the creature said.

“I have felt so much pain,” Stiles said, looking at Deaton with blank eyes, dark eyes. “So much suffering and chaos. Everyone I loved died. Most of them suffered first. Darach, you are a monster, and you deserve every bit of suffering you made them face.”

_“Make him suffer,”_ the Nogitsune hissed. _“As we did.”_

“You broke you’re Druid Oath to Magic and the Balance,” Stiles said in a flat voice. “You broke your Emissary Oath to the Hale Pack. Alan Deaton, I strip you of your magic. I strip from you your connection to the Earth. I bind your tongue against speaking to those who would further harm that with you have damaged. I grant that all those who meet you know you for what you are; Darach and Oath Breaker. So mote it be.”

Deaton screamed as his magic was ripped away from him. After a moment Stiles dropped to his knees and the Nogitsune made an angry, pained noise. Stiles smirked at it.

“You didn’t really think we were doing this again, did you, Void?”

_“Stiles,”_ Void growled. _“There’s only monsters in these woods. You only pretend to be a man.”_

“Maybe, but I don’t need you to do that.”

* * *

“Peter,” Talia said in a wary tone as she joined Peter on the porch.

“Doesn’t exactly look natural,” Peter said, not taking his eyes off the circular storm that had formed over something deep in the preserve. “Where are all the kids?”

“I’ll tell them to come straight home from school,” Talia said, already reaching for her phone. “Then I’ll give Deaton a call.”

“If you must,” Peter said as he started towards the forest. Talia’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“I don’t want you going out on your own when we don’t know what it is,” she said, clearly concerned.

“That doesn’t look like the kind of thing that will wait for us to translate Deaton’s cryptic non-answers,” Peter countered with a raised eyebrow. “I’d rather have some kind of idea what’s on our land before it decides we’re on its land.”

Talia frowned but after another crack of thunder sounded she released him. “Just be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Peter asked with a grin, already starting to run.

“Best I not answer that,” Talia sighed as she watched him go and called Derek.

…

Peter shifted down as he approached the area that seemed to be the focus of the storm. He wasn’t actually the kind to rush, thoughtlessly, into danger and he was sure there was danger here, even if the storm had started to dissipate during his run. It had taken longer than it should have to get here. The energy crackling around him had put his wolf on edge and made him unable to track it the way he should have.

A sudden noise made Peter stop and turn towards it. He frowned when all he saw was shadow. Then it moved.

Peter backed up before he even fully registered what he was seeing. The little black fox shape with too many tails turned to him and Peter’s instincts screamed at him to run. Run from the threat. Run to the Alpha. The Pack. Safety.

He couldn’t move though. The creature stared at him, teeth bared. It looked injured but no less dangerous for it. Like a cornered animal it seemed somehow more dangerous for its weakened state. Peter suddenly wished he actually knew how humans handled vicious animals.

He took a step back.

The creature charged at him and lunged. Peter threw his arms up to protect himself. It felt like someone threw up bucket of ice water at him. A sharp pain went through his wrist and, as the force of the creature threw him to the ground, Peter howled, loud and clear. It trailed off as his head hit the ground and the world around him went blurring.

He heard snarling. Red and black flashed in the corner of his eye. He slipped into unconsciousness with a warmth spreading out from his wrist.

* * *

Stiles woke up with a pained groan and pushed off the forest floor. His head was killing him. The rest of him didn’t feel great either. There was a low burn from his magic that he couldn’t quite place at that moment. He rubbed his wrist and tried to shake off the feeling. He shouldn’t have done that. It was a risky thing to do at the best of times but with Stiles already on edge and Void _right there_.

Stiles looked down at his hands and quickly counted his fingers.

Ten.

Alright, good on that front. He turned to Deaton, alive but unconscious. Now he’d have to fix the damage he’d done to the Nemeton. He had to at least get started before he went to recover from excessive magic use. By the feel of it he’d be out for a day at least.

Running on pure determination and stubbornness Stiles set about undoing the damage to the Nemeton. It was weak but not damaged too badly. Mostly it would just need regular tending. Stiles quickly drew up wards around it so no one could approach it with ill-intent. That done he bagged all of Deaton’s stuff and dragged the man himself away from the tree.

One of the wolves would find him if he just left him somewhere in the woods. Probably.

Stiles made a brief detour before going to his apartment to ransack Deaton’s supplies. Anything that was magical Stiles claimed for himself. If wouldn’t impact the man’s job so it wasn’t any more of a punishment than he’d already been given.

He just barely managed to get it all into the apartment and lock the door behind him before he collapsed onto the bed and passed out.

* * *

Talia sat at her brother’s bedside and worried. It had been a full day since she’d heard his howl; panicked and desperate in a way that Peter never was. A day since she’d taken off into the forest with her husband and her daughter right on her tail. A day since they’d found him unconscious in the preserve with a temperature. Since they’d found Alan Deaton not too far away, also unconscious but without a temperature.

Half a day since Deaton woke up, said her name, and she’d suddenly thought _Oath Breaker_. She didn’t even fully understand what that _was_ but her wolf demanded he be removed. She hadn’t wanted him anywhere near her pack.

With Peter out of action, suffering from some unknown malady, Talia didn’t have a left hand to talk things out with.

She decided Peter’s viciousness had its place here and now. She demanded Deaton leave, forcefully removed him from the house, and forbade him from the preserve. She couldn’t quite bring herself to order him from her territory but he wouldn’t be close to her pack.

Still Peter hadn’t woken up.

They were already dealing with the shake up from Paige’s almost attack. Now this. Derek spent a lot of time curled up either at the foot of Peter’s bed or on the couch with his head in Paige’s lap. The kids all wanted to spend time with Uncle Peter, the adults were all trying to keep everything in order and Arron was doing his best to keep his wife and Alpha calm and stable.

Despite all the jokes, the underhanded comments, the complaints, from all sides. Despite it all. It was suddenly hitting everyone just how much the pack relied on Peter.

They needed him.

They needed him and she didn’t know how to make him better.

* * *

Peter was surrounded by snow. That was odd, in and of itself. More odd was that he didn’t know where he was.

A figure started towards him and Peter took an involuntary step back. It was covered in bandages with metallic teeth and apparently no eyes.

It took him a moment to realise it wasn’t approaching him. It went just off to the side of him and approached another figure cowering away from it. This one looked human at least, and familiar.

Peter was startled to recognise the young man from the club. The one who’d managed to sneak out without waking Peter. He had none of that easy confidence or eager excitement here. He didn’t seem to register Peter’s presence any more than the creature did.

“Did you think it would be that easy, Stiles?” the creature said in a rough, hissing voice. “I’m part of you now Stiles. We are the void.”

“No,” Stiles said, desperately shaking his head despite the lack of conviction in his voice. “No, you’re not here. You’re not real. We got rid of you.”

“You came back, Stiles, you came back to me. You knew you would. I am what makes you powerful.”

“You’re not. You’re _not_. They-”

“Who Stiles? You have no one. You left them. You let them _die_. I’m all you’ve got, Stiles.”

Stiles let out a whimper and curled impossibly further into himself. The creature loomed over him, looking viciously pleased. Peter reached down and quickly balled some of the snow at his feet.

“Hey!” he shouted, drawing the creature’s attention right before he threw the snow ball. He might not know what was going on, but it seemed pretty obvious who the bad guy was. Plus he was hoping for another round with Stiles. Stiles, for his part, released a startled laugh when the snowball hit its mark. Stiles looked over at him, startled and confused, before a little smile tugged at his lips.

Suddenly the scene changed.

It was a forest. The preserve? Stiles was knelt over a body. His hands were bloody and his face tear streaked.

“Lydia, please Lydia, wake up, come on,” he begged the body. “Lydia, I need you. You know that. I’m no good without you. I’ll, I’ll do something bad. C’mon, you don’t want to leave me with Peter, remember what a bad influence he is? He’ll just tell me to kill them and I… God, Lydia please. I don’t want to kill them. There’s so much blood. I _need_ you. I need someone to make me be good.

Lydia, I’m going to kill them.”

Peter stepped forward to do something, what he didn’t know, but the scene changed again.

Now there were two Stiles. They were in a hall of some kind. It looked almost like the high school. Both Stiles’ had dark circles under their eyes but where one looked exhausted, leaning against a wall and struggling to stand, the other looked powerful and confident. Not like he had in the club though, there was a stillness to him, none of that bright, excitable energy.

“Why would he want you?” the still Stiles asked with a sneer. “Look at you. You’re weak. Pathetic. You were nothing without me. The human screw up.”

“I’m not, I’m _not_ ,” the tired Stiles said, voice quiet and shaky. Desperate.

“Oh but you are. Look at the disaster you caused. So many dead. You think you can change that?”

“I can. I _have_.”

Still Stiles scoffed and smirked and suddenly he was behind Peter, his arms coming around like a hug. It felt more like a trap. Bindings even though they didn’t yet touch.

“I can give him so. Much. More.” Still Stiles said into Peter’s ear, his arms wrapping-

As soon as it actually made contact with him the still Stiles went flying away from him as energy pulsed around Peter. When the pulse reached the tired Stiles it looked like he’d suddenly got his second wind. He looked at Peter with surprise and then delight.

“You’re real. You’re really here,” he said in an awed voice.

“As far as I’m aware,” Peter replied with a raised eyebrow, his carefully maintained calm fully in place. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

“No!”

Peter turned at the snarl to see the other Stiles looking furious. He had strange black lines etched onto his face and was moving towards them with a new stiffness in his gait. Peter turned his full attention to it, standing defensively in front of Stiles.

“I think I have a right to know,” he said firmly, watching the creature warily.

“No!” It snarled again. “He’s mine. He’s mine! I’m not losing him again! He’s nothing without me.”

“It’s a remnant,” Stiles said in a quiet voice, like he was scared to speak too loudly in front of the creature. “The mark wouldn’t be strong enough to ward it off otherwise. It’s fighting to survive. It feeds off pain, chaos, and fear.”

“You better stop being scared then,” Peter said in a commanding voice. “What mark?”

Stiles reach around and touched his wrist lightly. Peter lifted it and what almost looked like a tattoo of a tree sitting on his wrist like it had always been there. It took him a moment to work out that the strange rumble he got from his wolf was all _satisfaction_ and _mate_.

“We need to have a conversation after this,” Peter said with a sigh, putting it aside for now.

“Anything you want,” Stiles said. Peter did a double take at the tone and saw Stiles watching him with unrestrained adoration.

“He’s insane,” the false Stiles said harshly. “He’s useless without me. Look how quickly he falls apart on his own. He’s dangerous. A threat to your precious pack.”

“Well, one threat is easier to deal with than two,” Peter said plainly before he lunged forward, claws out as he went for the fake’s throat. It tried to step back but root suddenly sprung from the ground and held it in place.

“I am not weak,” Stiles said in a hard voice, “and I don’t need _you_.”

Peter grinned as he slashed his claws across the creature’s throat. Almost immediately it began turning to ash and crumble to the floor. Peter stepped back uncertainly, only to see a bug fly up from the ash. Stiles shot past him and clapped his hands over the bug. He then dropped it to the floor and stepped on it, grinding his foot.

“I think it’s dead,” Peter said with a raised eyebrow.

“Gotta be sure,” Stiles said with a shrug. Then he suddenly grabbed Peter in a desperate hug. “Please don’t leave me. Please. I can’t be alone anymore.”

“Alright,” Peter said uncertainly. He raised a hand to pat Stiles’ back but accidentally brushed his neck on the way. Stiles bared his neck without comment or loosening of the hug.

Yeah, Peter really needed to talk to Talia.

“We’ll probably wake up soon,” Stiles said quietly. “Can I come to the house?”

“Yes, I think that’s probably best,” Peter replied, running his hand through Stiles’ hair.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Peter woke up with a weight on his legs and the feel of his Alpha nearby. He opened his eyes and looked down, shifting slightly so he could get a good look at the child on his legs. Cora looks up at the movent and her eyes immediately brightened, her scent filling with happiness.

“Uncle Peter!” She basically shouted, throwing herself from the foot of the bed onto Peter’s chest.

“Cora!” Talia said, her scolding tone ruined slightly by the clear relief. Peter could hear feat thundering up the stairs as the pack shouted about ‘Uncle Peter’ before they came bursting into his room.

“What on Earth is going on?” he demanded, even as he enjoyed all the very obvious scenting going on.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost four days, Peter,” Talia said, her eyes a bit shiny as she gripped Peter’s hand tightly. She gave a slightly choked laugh. “I told you to be careful!”

“I’m always careful,” Peter said automatically, earning a light smack to the shoulder and another slightly wet laugh.

“What happened out there Peter? We found Deaton an-”

“Deaton?”

“He’s banned from the preserve,” Talia said in a firm voice. “No one is to speak to him on their own. He claims someone attacked him. You didn’t see him out there?”

“No I-”

Peter stopped as he heard a car coming toward the house, moving much faster than it should be. Peter pushed himself up, already sure who it was.

“Peter!” Talia said sharply, trying to push him back without actually putting in too much force. “Don’t get up, someone else will get the door.”

“Nonsense,” Peter said, batting her hands away determinedly. “I feel fine, and I know who it is.”

Sure enough the car stopped, the door opened and closed and Peter could recognise Stiles’ scent and rapid heartbeat. The man had an awful lot of explaining to do, to both Peter and his pack, but Peter was pretty willing to try out this mate thing.

He didn’t think he’d mind being adored.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't _always_ make Talia the bad guy. Sometimes it's Deaton.  
>  This was going to be a cute/funny sex thing until Stiles went insane on me.


End file.
